Just Another Name In The List, Right?
by Quincey Forder-Denis De Plaen
Summary: A GargoylesHeroes crossover.chapter 1. What's a man to do, when he find out his family could be endgangered by having their name on a list? What could a grandmother do, when her grandchild make contact with her greedy biological mother dispite her effort


**Just another name on the list, right?**

By Denis "Malkavien" De Plaen

d.deplaenlft.be

Disclaimers: To make things clear and on a short note, Gargoyles and its characters belongs to Disney, Heroes and its characters belong to NBC. All original characters belong to me. All references, songs, movies, TV series and comics belong to their respective owners.

SPOILER WARNING: Up to episode 17, Company Man; with elements from episode 18 Parasite. Reader's digestion be advised that this story will contain some themes and scenes not suitable for young audiences.

CHAPTER 1: Disturbing phone calls

_**Heroes can come from a broad range of origins. Humans, and not so, but no less sentient. But all contribute in the shaping of the future. Good, bad, and in the shades of the moral greyness. But regardless of how they were, what they grew up to be, and still growing, what their role will be is up to them, and their use of the free will.**_

Late October 2006

Fox, David and Alexander Xanatos, Owen Burnett

Eyrie Building, Manhattan, New York

Fox Xanatos was standing in her husband's office, frozen with shock. Shock and fright, actually.

"David…" She whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. We both know what make you special. We don't know that Professor Saresh…" David Xanatos Began, soothingly stroking his wife's fiery red mane, before Owen Burnett interrupted him.

"It is Suresh, actually. Mohinder Suresh. I believe you turned down his father Chandra's request for assistance last year."

Xanatos arched a brown eyebrow. Was it disapproval he heard in Owen's tone?

"Then that settle the situation, doesn't it? The son is as much a bogus as the father is." David declared with finality.

"Very well, Mr Xanatos. May I remind you that you have an appointment with Mrs Petrelli. "

"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten." David replied, kissing Fox's brow, and heading out of his office.

Owen and Fox exchanged a look, before the blond haired man followed his employer.

"Dad's hiding something, Mom." Alex said, appearing next to his mother, making her jump.

"Jeezus, Alex! Do you really have to try my potential immortality by giving me heart attacks?!" Fox hissed in annoyance.

Alex had, at least, the decency to look down, even for the briefest moment.

"Still, I think Dad is keeping something from us."

Fox looked at her ten years old son, but said nothing. Was he really? Could he…?

'Don't silly, woman! If David had an affair, he'd brag about it, and share all the tasty details while visiting your intimacy with vigor'.

"Mom, what's the 'tasty detail' about?" Alex asked, starting to run, quickly followed by his mother.

Before long, the two were chasing each other, laughing, he phone call all but forgotten.

David Xanatos,

Eyrie building, Manhattan, New York

Xanatos was pissed and punched the digits on the touchpad, dialling a certain number.

He waited for the other part to pick up and set in the encryption protocol, pacing in the dark, secure office, unknown to the clan, unknown even by his wife.

_Mr Linderman_

_Las Vegas, Nevada_

Thousands miles west, a bearded, white haired old man wiped his hands on the towel hanging on this belt and picked up his cellphone, dialled a code.

When Xanatos heard the bip, he pressed the handfree button and roared, letting all his annoyance and anger upon his correspondent.

"Why are my wife and my son still on the list, Linderman?!"

The old man sighed and spoke softly, as a grandfather to his grandson throwing a tantrum.

"Hello to you too, David. I'm going very well, thank you. How are you doing, yourself?"

Mr Linderman had a small smile on his wrinkled lips.

David Xanatos was a very lucky man to have gotten to the old man while he was cooking in the Corinthian's kitchens. Cooking had a calming effect on the crimelord-slash-industrialist.

Mr Linderman's aide, Aaron Malsky, hadn't been so lucky when his former employer learned how the attorney had stolen two millions dollars from him. So he had sent his new killer, the venomously beautiful Jessica. Had David called him a hour earlier, or a hour later, Jessica would be on her way to New York City… or maybe not. Barely a week to go before the painting was scheduled to prove itself lifelike. Why waste such an asset as the super-strong stripper-turned-hit woman. She was prime exemple of one of Mr Linderman's many talents: Turning a money loss into a disposable human resource.

"Hello, Mr Linderman, I'm doing well too. At least I was until that fucking Servarius-wannabe called. I though we had an agreement, and that Mr Duval himself asked you to make sure that my family would appear anywhere on Suresh' list? You know how Thompson and Nakamura would love to get their hands on Fox and Alexander! Without Claude, he would have had her already. I'm not going to loose them without fighting. Not to Primatech, not to Sylar, Oberon, not to anyone!"

"Watch your language, David. You know I don't like curses anymore than threats. You'll do well to remember whom you're talking to, my boy. I tutored through the first steps in the Society. I offered you some of my most precious pieces of my collection, the Eye of Odin and the Grimmorium. I know what makes you thick, your strengths, your weaknesses."

David had stopped pacing in the secret office, thoroughfully sobered from his anger.

"I apologize. But you know what the stake is, old friend."

"Don't worry, dear boy, I remember the stakes quite well." Linderman's light tone reverberated in the dark office. "Now I believe you have an appointment with this dear Angela Petrelli."

Not bothering to ask how the old Illuminatus knew he was supposed to meet with the mother of the man who'll likely be the next congressman for New York, Xanatos bit his goodbye to Mr Linderman and hung up.

Late afternoon

_Angela Petrelli, The Haitian, Claude Rain_

_Upper West Side_ _Manhattan_

In another part of the city, an woman in her fifties was pacing in her office as well. Two men were standing in the room with her. One was tall, dark skinned and his head was devoid of hair. He was wearing a sportive business attire.

"Calmez-vous, Madame. Vous énervez n'arrangera rien."

The woman stopped on her track and whirled around to face the man, glaring at him, but it didn't faze him one bit.

"You expect me to calm myself?! After announcing me that my granddaughter made contact with that arsonist whore of a biological mother?! She called Nathan, for Pete's sake! She called him and tried to blackmail him with Claire's existence!"

She turned over to the other man, silver haired, wearing unsavoury trousers and blazer, and a shirt that probably hadn't seen the inside of a laundry machine in a good while.

"And you!! Did you have to hide her THAT close of Odessa?!"

Claude Rain resisted the urge to turn invisible. He raised his hands in a defensive, "don't blame me" gesture, well as much as his arm allowed him. The nerves were still raw after the electroshock he received from the tasers. He was grateful to the kid for the save –he really put the training session to good use, flying away like that- but had to cut it short. He couldn't afford to get caught by Bennett, or any of the Company's lapdogs. To think Bennett shot him twice! Thrice, counting the tazer. But then, he was partially responsible. He should have seen it coming, knowing what he knew of Mendes. He should have known he'd rat Peter to Primatech. From what he got, Peter basically stole Mendes' squeeze. And Ellis, McBain, whatever her name was, didn't have to push very much to convince him, from what the Haitian reported to them. There wasn't much time left to prevent the kid from going nuclear on them. And the VERY last thing he needed was a hissy fit from this lady, weither she was his boss or not.

"Don't take that ruddy tone with me, Angie!" Rain snapped back. "I DID took her to Mexico, and got back. And that's how I was found out in the first place, remember. It was her own choice to spend all the money you offered her, and to settle down in Kermit. I warned you about Meredith Gordon, didn't I? I told you what a greedy bitch she was!"

The tension was going up, and fast. The Haitian stepped in front of them.

"Settle down. Both of you." He said with such an authority that even Angela stood quietly.

For someone supposedly mute, he sure used a mighty voice timber!

Still glaring daggers at each other, Claude and Angela nodded.

"That's better. Now what do I do with Claire? She's already taken contact with her friend Zach, and they made at least one new tape. Plus they went to see Mademoiselle Gordon in Kermit." He summarized.

"Erasing her memory is a moot point, her power will renew her synaptic pathway within minutes, and she'll remember. We've tried that in the past." Claude added.

"Stay close to her, watch her and over her. Make sure she doesn't do anything stupid that will alert Thompson's agents about her abilities." Decided Angela Petrelli. "Nathan is heading there tomorrow, I think, with the money."

Claude sneered at that.

"Sure, give her what she wants. Who knows how much she'll ask next time? Five hundred? One million? Pardon my language, luv, but she holds your son by the balls. I say we send the big guy there and wipe her memory clean of anything indicating that her daughter is still alive."

Before Mrs Petrelli could answer anything, her cell phone rang.

Raising a perfectly manicured finger at the two men, she flipped the cell phone open and spoke.

"Yes, Hana?" a pause, then: "They're WHAT?!"

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Angela listened to what her other agent told her

"Alright, wireless. Keep track of their progression, but remain in Vegas. I'm sending someone. Keep me informed."

Hanging up, the matron turned toward the dark skinned mind wiper.

"Head back to Odessa as fast as you can. Parkman and Sprague are heading there."

The she turned toward Rain.

"Claude, I need a new identity with matching paper trail to match."

"Not a problem. What name to you want me to…"

"I don't care, just do it quickly. Yesterday, if possible. We're better be safe than sorry, in case this goes South"

Rain smirked, and said in this typical British accent of is:

"Who do ye think I am? Doctor Who? And things are already South. They're going to Texas, remember?"

Without waiting for a reply, Claude turned invisible, and left the room.

To be continued


End file.
